


After the Ordeal

by initialism



Category: Marvel 616
Genre: "Alpha" turns out to be secret Omega, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Discussion of Abortion, Enduring Rape to protect love interest, M/M, Morning Sickness, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:34:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23823166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/initialism/pseuds/initialism
Summary: The aftermath of being captured by Kingpin causes several important changes in Spider-Man and the Human Torch's relationship.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Johnny Storm
Comments: 1
Kudos: 43
Collections: Unusual_Bearings_2020





	After the Ordeal

**Author's Note:**

  * For [salazarastark (niewanyin)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/niewanyin/gifts).



Peter Parker hated travelling through Manhattan. The subway was always crowded, you always got jostled on the streets, and it just wasn't as friendly a neighbourhood as Queens.

Spider-Man, on the other hand, loved it. The crowded skyscrapers gave him the opportunity to do some really excellent swinging. He'd never admit it in public, but then again it wasn't as though Spider-Man ever gave interviews. Johnny, on the other hand, said more than enough for both of them.

He was three blocks down from the Empire State Building, where he was supposed to be meeting Johnny, when his spider-sense went off. Quickly diverting into an alley, he landed on top of a fire escape to observe what was going on. A gang of three tough guys -- if they weren't Maggia enforcers or something similar, they were clearly doing the whole "dress for the job you want" thing -- had surrounded someone who looked for all the world like an average college student.

He jumped down quickly. "Try picking on someone your own size," he said as he landed. The tough guys turned to stare at him, seemingly unimpressed. "OK, fair point, you're still much bigger than me. But can you do this?" With a quick thwip he tripped the nearest backwards, and then flicked his other wrist to pin the second one to a wall with webbing.

Abandoning whatever intimidation or shakedown or whatever else was supposed to be going on, the remaining assailant used a switchblade to slice through the webbing trapping the others, and all three of them quickly fled.

Their victim was still cowering against the wall.

"It's OK," Peter said, holding out a hand. "They've gone."

"They'll be back," the guy said. "I-- Oh, it's so stupid, I owe money ..."

"I figured it was something like that."

"Can you ... Can you walk me home? It's not far, I promise." He looked up. "I'm Dan, by the way."

"Hi, Dan," Peter said, but suddenly, an altogether different sense alerted Peter, though it was screaming _Danger_ just as loudly as his spider-sense ever did. This guy's scent spelled out loud and clear that he was an Omega, and worse still just coming into heat. Peter did not need another round of the complications that always came with people he rescued imprinting on him.

"OK," he said uncomfortably, "let's get you home. Quickly."

"Not far" turned out to be two and a half blocks, in a fairly rundown apartment building tucked behind one of those nondescript office buildings that always turned out to be owned by either some supervillain's shell company, or Tony Stark. Dan fumbled with his key a few times before letting them in.

As the door opened, though, Peter's spider-sense went into overdrive, before -- just as suddenly -- going away completely. Peter felt as though that wasn't the only thing missing: it felt as though his muscles had grown weaker, less able to spring into action. As though he had the proportionate speed and strength of ... a human.

"Something wrong, Spider-Man?" came an all-too-familiar voice from the darkness at the end of the hallway.

"Kingpin," said Peter, as he walked forward. He looked exactly as he usually did, except for a huge medallion round his neck that Peter had never seen before. Right in the centre of it was a tiny jewel, a red glow emanating from it that Peter was certain was the source of whatever was happening to him. The thing absolutely screamed "evil magic, should be locked away in one of the scariest parts of Doctor Strange's house ASAP".

Dan crossed over to him, his whole demeanour completely changed. "See, I told you I could do it," he said to Kingpin, a note of brattiness in his tone.

"You did really well, pet," Kingpin said. "You were right, I should have tried this long ago."

"You were bait," Peter said.

"That's a very harsh way of putting it." Dan pouted in an exaggerated way. "Oh, poor little Spider-Man. Did you think I was imprinting on you? I already have all the Alpha I need." He put a hand on Kingpin's lapel.

"And those guys who were attacking you?" Peter asked. "They were all in on it too, weren't they?"

"Some of my most trusted Betas," Kingpin said. "I didn't send any of the Alphas, just in case they got a little too carried away with the act." He turned to Dan, smiling. "You can go now. You don't want to see what's going to happen next."

As one of Kingpin's henchmen, who had also emerged from the shadows, escorted Dan away, two others came up behind Peter and grabbed him. He tried his best to fight them off, but without his enhanced strength, he didn't stand a chance. Within moments, his arms were being held behind his back, one in the grip of each guy.

"Bring him," said Kingpin.

The henchmen dragging him around had to do a weird sort of sideways turn to get through the doorway with him between them, but when they did, all three of them emerged into a cavernous room, all glass walls and empty office desks. Clearly it was a false door leading back into the building out front.

"Supervillain building," Peter said. "I _knew_ it."

That earned him a slap from one of the henchmen, but he didn't mind.

"Over here," Kingpin said, leading them to one of the desks. He kicked a swivel chair still wrapped up in plastic to one side, and then Peter found himself pressed face down onto the desk. They started tying his wrists behind his back, and then his legs to the two legs of the desk.

Peter could feel the absence of his spider-sense acutely; he knew for certain it would have been in overdrive right now if it had been working. There was only one reason for them to put him in this position.

Kingpin bent down to talk into his ear. "Do you know how much money you and your friends have cost me this quarter alone?"

"Look, if you wanted to hire me as an accountant, there are easier ways," Peter said. "It's not really my field of expertise but I'm sure I'd manage. I'm pretty good with numbers in general."

"We just had to pick the guy with the mouth, didn't we?" Kingpin said. "I'd gag you, but I want to hear you scream." He stood up again and unceremoniously ripped away the lower half of the Spider-Man costume. "You see, I want to send a message to you 'superheroes'. There's only one Alpha that's going to dominate New York City, and it's me."

"Well, you know, this makes a change from the whole 'now we get to see who you really are' unmasking thing," Peter said.

"You really think I didn't already know?" Kingpin said.

Peter was on the verge of resigning himself to his fate when he caught sight of something out of the corner of his eye: an orange streak, only just above street level.

A moment later, several layers of plate glass windows had been smashed through by a flaming human projectile.

One that alighted on the floor with surprising delicacy and turned back into the entirely human form of Johnny Storm, before saying, "I'm sorry, is this a bad time?"

"What are you doing here?" Peter said.

"You were late!" Johnny said. "So I came looking ... Lucky for you that I did, I think, judging by--"

"No, get away!" Peter said desperately. "He's got some sort of--"

Kingpin and his henchmen were advancing on Johnny. Peter felt guilty about the relief he felt as Kingpin left his immediate environment, but then his dread increased tenfold when he realised that now Kingpin was being careful to keep him and Johnny equidistant -- including them both in the area of effect of his necklace.

"Flame on!" said Johnny, and stamped on the floor. "Flame on!" he said again.

Peter heard Kingpin's laugh at Johnny's failed attempts to relaunch himself into the air.

"Oh well," Johnny said, "we'll just have to do this the old-fashioned way."

There was a blur of fists and feet as Johnny tried his best to fight them off, but just as Peter had before him, he soon found himself restrained. Kingpin's guys were simply too big and strong.

"Should we tie him up and make him watch, boss?"

"Wait!" Kingpin said. He sniffed the air suspiciously. "This one's an Omega."

"You sure, boss?" said one of the thugs holding Johnny. "He don't seem like one to me."

"You think I can't tell when there's a ripe Omega right in front of me?" He put his hand under Johnny's chin, forcing his gaze upwards. "Oh, this is going to be so much better. I'm not just going to fuck a superhero, I'm going to _breed_ one."

Peter's mind was struggling to keep up. Johnny was an Omega? And in heat? That seemed ... very improbable. But then the scent hit him too, and he knew the truth of it. Johnny was an Omega, in heat.

Peter felt as though his whole world had been turned upside-down. He'd known Johnny for years, and all along had assumed he was an Alpha, like himself. Or, indeed, like his sister, one of the most famous Alpha superheroes there was. Even if he'd known he wasn't an Alpha, Peter would have assumed that Johnny was a Beta; he'd never got even the slightest impression to indicate differently. Until now.

"If I do this, you'll leave Spider-Man alone, right?" Johnny said. Kingpin's only response was to laugh.

It didn't take long before Johnny was tied up in the same way as him, on the desk directly opposite. Kingpin was clearly very familiar with the radius of effect of his necklace, although Peter doubted he had any idea how it really worked, and was making sure that he kept them close together.

Johnny's outfit was a little harder for Kingpin to deal with than Peter's own had been, probably the result of the unstable molecules in its construction, but eventually gained access by hacking at it awkwardly with a knife supplied by one of his henchmen. Then he unzipped himself, pushing his pants down just enough to reveal his grotesque cock. Already half-hard, he began to stroke it lazily. "You can feel it starting, can't you?" he told Johnny. "Your body wants this. It's what you've needed all along, an Alpha to fuck you properly. Teach you your place."

Peter wanted more than anything to look away, but forced himself to lock his gaze with Johnny's. To give him whatever reserves of fortitude he could, even if it was only through the mask. But also to strengthen his own resolve. There had to be a way out of this; they just had to find it.

In the end, though, Peter had to screw his eyes tight shut at the very moment that Kingpin guided himself inside Johnny. Not so much because of the act itself, disgusting and violating as it was, but because of everything he could see in the look on Johnny's face. Not just the anguish at being forced into this humiliating situation, not just the pain occasioned by Kingpin being so rough with him, but the deep shame at the fact that Kingpin had not been completely wrong -- his body was accepting this as, if not pleasurable, then at least inevitable. Peter couldn't imagine how that level of biological betrayal would feel.

He opened his eyes again at the sound of Johnny grunting, and could see that he was holding back tears. His distress amplified Peter's determination to get out of this horrendous situation, and he began to think things through. His web spinners were not dependent on any biological ability; unless the magic Kingpin was using was _very_ weird, they should still work. Was the reason they'd left them on him because they didn't know that, or because they were confident it didn't matter with his wrists tightly bound together? Then again, even if he could use them, the wrist action required to fire them would probably break several bones in his current de-powered state.

Johnny's eyes had widened in horror, and Peter knew with a sickening twist in his stomach what was about to happen. If Johnny imprinted on Kingpin, who knew what could happen as a result?

There was nothing else for it. "Hey, man, I'm here," he said. "I'm here. It's OK, I'm here."

Johnny nodded minutely, understanding exactly what Peter intended. He bit his lip, looking up imploringly into Peter's mask, as he came involuntarily.

Kingpin gave a guttural groan, and then, it was all over. He stepped back and motioned his goons over. "Let's get some pictures of this, shall we, boys? So that the 'superhero community' understands exactly what's going to happen to each and every one of them if they don't keep their noses out of our business?" He held up the necklace. "Things are going to change now that we've got this, believe me."

As he was speaking, though, Peter realised that he'd made a mistake. In his gloating, he'd forgotten about making sure that Peter remained within the necklace's area of effect. He could feel his strength returning to him. He flexed his arms a couple of times experimentally, then burst apart the bonds behind his back. Wrenching his legs free as well, he used a strand of web to grab the necklace from around Kingpin's neck. As he drew it closer, he felt himself grow weaker again, but it only required regular human strength to smash it against the desk. The effect dissipated immediately, but Kingpin's men were quick to realise what had happened, pulling out pistols from their shoulder holsters. Kingpin himself was just as quick to realise that the writing was on the wall, hurriedly dressing himself and beating a retreat into the further reaches of the office building. His thugs covered him with a few rounds from their guns, but seemed to have no inclination to stay and fight. It was as though they could read his expression of pure fury even through the mask.

"Let's get you out of here," Peter said to Johnny, coming around the desk to untie him. "Are you feeling OK?"

Johnny mumbled something, but Peter couldn't make out what it was. Peter helped him to his feet. "OK, Johnny, you're doing great," Peter said. "We need to get away from here, regroup, we'll get your family, the Avengers, whoever--"

"No," Johnny managed to say. "I don't want to see any of them. Just, just get me out of here."

"Do you think you can get your flame on?" Johnny just whimpered some more. "All right, no problem, there are other options," Peter said. He picked Johnny up under one arm and stretched the other out to fire a strand of webbing up at the side of the apartment block on the opposite side of the alley.

* * *

Carrying Johnny, it took Peter rather longer than usual to make it back to his apartment, but they made it in the end.

He laid Johnny out on the couch. "What do you need? A drink? Some painkillers?" Johnny nodded to both, and Peter began scrambling around in the kitchen.

He brought over a glass of water and two Tylenol. "Don't you have anything stronger?" Johnny asked.

"I don't believe in using drugs without a prescription," Peter said.

Johnny held up the glass.

"Oh," Peter said. "I mean ... probably somewhere."

He came back with two glasses filled with a small amount each that he'd poured from the bottle of whiskey he'd kinda-sorta inherited from Uncle Ben, inasmuch as Aunt May never drank it.

It was only when he raised the glass to his lips that he realised he was still wearing the mask.

"So I guess we need to talk," Peter said, after he'd pulled it over the back of his head.

"I was going to settle for getting blind drunk and never talking about it again," Johnny said. "But fine, let's talk."

"Did you ..."

"Yes," Johnny said. "I imprinted on you. Is that going to be a problem?"

"I _wanted_ you to," Peter said slowly. "I mean, then and there, it seemed like a far better option than you imprinting on someone like Wilson Fisk. But, you know, it's pretty ... it's a pretty big thing, considering everything."

"Everything?"

"The fact that we've been friends for years. And, well, I didn't even know you were an Omega until a couple of hours ago."

"No," Johnny said. "No one does, outside my family."

Peter's eyes narrowed. "You've been on suppressants this whole time?"

Johnny coughed as he took a particularly large swig of whiskey. "Not those over the counter things. Reed's special ones."

Peter nearly dropped his glass. " _Reed Richards_ uses suppressants? But he's like ... the poster child for Omega superheroing."

"Oh, sure," Johnny said. "Out and proud, that's our Reed. But sometimes he really, _really_ wants to work on an invention or some equations or whatever, and not be distracted by a heat."

"Huh, that does actually make sense," Peter said. "And I'll tell you something else that makes sense -- however the magic they were using works, it can't distinguish between superpowers and medical interventions."

Johnny looked at him in disappointment. "Do you think you can disengage your science brain for just a moment?"

"I mean, technically, this is magic, not science," Peter said, voice getting quieter at Johnny's withering look. "OK, let's focus on ... well, us. I mean, this is a pretty big change to our relationship, I guess."

"So what, exactly," Johnny said, taking another sip, "did you think of our relationship as before?"

"Well, y'know, we ... team up. We each have our own things going on but sometimes we fight crime together."

"You make it sound like a hookup for superheroes," Johnny said.

"It kind of is, though," Peter said. "Hey! Maybe somebody should make an app for--" Catching the look in Johnny's eyes, which was now much less disappointment and much closer to the one that crept into them when he was about to flame on, he said, "OK, OK, focusing."

"We don't have to ..." Johnny began, then tried again. "Nothing has to change. We can still do ... whatever. Teaming up. If I go back on the suppressants, or just avoid you when it's a bad time ... You helped me out, and I appreciate that--"

"OK, stop talking," Peter said. "Number one, you were the one throwing yourself in harm's way for my benefit. They were about to do all that to me, don't forget."

The thought of just how close things had come to going very differently struck Peter anew, and for just a moment it was as though he was reliving the whole experience again. How much worse it had been for Johnny didn't bear thinking about. What a stupid thing to say - "don't forget". If they could forget, it would be for the best, but that time they'd had -- only a few minutes, really, by the clock on the wall, but an eternity in their experience, like some twisted relativity problem -- would stay with them forever, Peter knew.

"And number two?" Johnny said.

"Huh?"

"Number two," Johnny said. "You said 'number one', which implies the existence of a 'number two'. Hell, maybe you have like a whole numbered list, I don't know."

"No, it was just two," Peter said quietly.

"So?"

"So ... number two, who says I don't want things to change?"

Kneeling down next to the couch to kiss Johnny was the bravest thing he'd ever done, but also, in many ways, the simplest.

"You didn't need to do that," Johnny said. "Just because-- I don't know, out of obligation, or guilt, or whatever."

"I know I didn't need to," Peter said. "I _wanted_ to."

"OK, good," Johnny said. "In that case ..." He leaned up for another kiss.

Peter buried the knowledge that he _did_ feel guilty deep inside as he bent down to kiss him again.

* * *

Johnny moved in to Peter's apartment. It really did make a lot of sense in a lot of ways, and even if it was one of the most horrendous Alpha/Omega clichés out there, neither of them cared. Sue and Reed had invited Peter to move into the Baxter Building, but the very fact that Peter had been sorely tempted by the idea of permanent access to all of Reed's gadgets had been enough to convince Johnny that they would be much better off if it worked in the other direction.

They teamed up, a lot; the criminals of Queens were probably the first outside their families to guess about the change in the nature of their relationship. But working together was natural to them, and a lot easier than staying inside, not talking about anything in particular as a way of avoiding talking about that one particular thing.

Johnny had terrible dreams, crying out in his sleep; Peter held him close in the night and told him that he was OK. Johnny never seemed to remember them in the morning. Peter quietly switched all of his bedclothes for flame-retardant materials, just in case Johnny ever lost control of his powers in a dream. It got bad enough that Peter braved a visit to Bleeker Street, to check that Nightmare wasn't involved. Stephen explained, uncharacteristically gently, that Johnny had more than enough reason to be sleeping badly without supernatural involvement. He was, however, deeply troubled by what Peter told him about the necklace Kingpin had been wearing, and disappeared off into his sanctum sanctorum to "check something". Peter waited three hours before deciding to risk following him in; when he did, he found the sorcerer's body stiff as a waxwork, sitting cross-legged on the floor, barely any signs of life at all. Peter hoped that his astral self was all right, and headed back home.

* * *

As far as Peter was concerned, they were taking things very slowly. Johnny needed to recover from his ordeal, to adjust to not taking the suppressants ...

Johnny, though, seemed to have other ideas. One night, when Peter was expecting to cuddle up in bed once more after being out on the streets, he found Johnny completely naked, a look of lust in his eyes. "Listen," he said. "I want you. And I know you want me. And, more to the point, I want to want ... this. I want it to be normal again. So help me out here and just fuck me senseless without us having to have a three hour conversation about it first."

Peter's cock had begun to grow hard just at the sight of Johnny, but his words sent him into overdrive. He kissed him, gently at first but then with increasing pressure, before slipping his hand down to stroke Johnny. After what seemed like a very short time to Peter, Johnny twisted underneath him onto his side, a clear invitation. Peter got down onto the bed behind him and placed his cock between Johnny's ass cheeks, intending to only rest it there lightly, teasingly, but discovering that he was already so slick that the tip slid inside without him even trying. Peter was sure from his scent that he wasn't in heat, but that didn't seem to be stemming his arousal at all.

"Please," Johnny said breathlessly.

Peter kissed the back of Johnny's neck as he pushed further inside; Johnny arched his back, as though to demand he fuck him even deeper. Peter obliged, making long, slow deliberate strokes. He grabbed his hips to give him a better purchase as Johnny got slicker still.

"I'm yours," Johnny said, voice ragged.

He must be getting close if he was saying things like that. Not that the sentiment was unexpected, given the imprinting thing. "Yes," Peter said, reaching down to stroke Johnny's cock. "I've got you."

Everything about the situation was intense, and it wasn't long at all before Peter came deep inside Johnny. Moments later, he felt Johnny's ass contracting around him, and the cock in his hand begin to spurt.

They lay there, together, spent. Peter felt more connected to Johnny than ever before.

"Thank you," Johnny said eventually. "That was _exactly_ what I needed."

"Are you sure?" Peter said. "I wasn't ... taking advantage?"

"Oh, here comes the guilt again," Johnny said. He twisted around and kissed Peter briefly. "Yes, you muttonhead, you 'took advantage' of me. I was lying in bed completely naked and desperate to be fucked, and you took advantage of that fact. But, and pay attention 'cos here comes the science bit, what you were taking advantage of was my desire, so it's all OK!" He scrunched up his nose. "Let's face it, you're going to have to get used to it."

"Because you're imprinted on me?"

"I was going to say because it was amazing, but sure, make it about that if it helps feed your guilt complex."

"I don't have a guilt complex!" Peter protested. "Well, OK, no, I obviously do, but not about this."

"You're lying," Johnny said. "I can tell when you're lying." He propped himself up on an elbow so that they were face-to-face. "Listen to me very carefully, Peter Parker. Did we get together after Kingpin did what he did? Yes. Would we have ever got together if it hadn't happened? Probably not. But we are together, and as annoying as you are at least eighty percent of the time, it's wonderful, and I refuse to let it be defined by the circumstances. So you have to, too."

"All right," said Peter. "I can do that."

"Good," Johnny said.

"I do have questions though."

Johnny groaned. "Of course you do."

"First of all, I want to dispute your eighty percent figure. I think my annoyingness tops out at sixty-five percent of the time, maximum."

"That's not a question."

"OK, moving on ... 'probably' not?"

"What?" Johnny said.

Peter stroked the side of Johnny's abdomen. "You said 'probably not' about us getting together if ... in other circumstances. Were you ... were you into me, before?"

"You wish!" Johnny said, but the laugh that accompanied it was unconvincing in the extreme.

"I mean, I never managed to work out you were an Omega, so I would probably have been just as oblivious to that ..."

"I was on suppressants, Peter," Johnny said. "That's why you couldn't tell." More quietly, he added, "It's also why I couldn't tell."

"Couldn't tell what?"

"Whether I was into you or not, OK? Are you happy now?"

"I was already happy," Peter said. "But yes, you admitting that you were ambiguously maybe into me is obviously doing huge amounts for my ego."

"It's weird," Johnny said. "I had all these ... instincts, I guess? But it's like they weren't hooked up to anything. _Now_ , it all makes sense. But yes, some of those instincts tended to point in your general direction. But I had no way of being able to tell whether that was really what it was."

"Why did you take the suppressants?" Peter asked. "I mean, we don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," he went on, when Johnny hadn't said anything for a while.

"I was worried about losing control," he said quietly.

"Johnny ..." Peter said quietly, but didn't know how to carry on. To have had exactly what he feared happen in the most traumatic possible way was unthinkable.

"I don't want to talk about it," he said. "But ... I don't have to worry about it any more. Not now that I've got you. So thank you."

* * *

It was twenty six days after they'd moved in together that Peter woke up without Johnny next to him for the first time. It didn't take long for him to work out where Johnny was, though -- the retching sound coming from the bathroom was unmistakable.

Peter fussed around him, helping him clean up. "Are you OK?" he asked, which only earned an "obviously not" glare from Johnny. "Do you want some breakfast or do you want ... not breakfast?"

"Toast," Johnny said. "I could probably manage some plain toast."

"I can do that," Peter said.

When he brought it back, Johnny was sitting up in bed, looking a distinctly unnatural colour. He took the plate of toast and rested on his lap, not eating anything from it.

Seeing the calendar in the kitchen had made Peter realise what might be going on. Johnny had decided to stop taking the suppressants, and if what had happened that night had triggered his first ever heat then the next one would be due about now ... "Is this something that always happens when you're ... I mean, so far as you know?"

"I'm not in heat, Peter," Johnny said. "I'm pregnant."

"But-- Wait. That means--"

"Yes."

"Wow. Right. OK. I mean--"

"It's OK, Peter. You can take a moment to deal with this if you need it."

Peter took the moment. He clenched and unclenched his fists several times and came perilously close to ejecting web fluid all over the carpet, which definitely wouldn't be covered under "reasonable wear and tear" if and when he moved out. Which would be soon, given that there really wasn't enough room here for the two of them _and_ a baby.

Peter realised guiltily that he was getting rather ahead of himself. "Are you going to keep it?" he asked, then hurriedly added, "Because it's fine if you want to. And fine if you don't, because-- I mean, it's horrific. You would be entirely justified, not that you would need to be justified--"

"Yes," Johnny said simply.

"Wait, I lost track; which part of what I said are you saying 'yes' to?"

Johnny smiled weakly. "I've suspected for a while. I've had more than enough time to think about it. I want to keep it. I don't care where this baby came from, I care about where it will end up. And that's with us, so ..."

"Right," Peter said.

"Are you sure you're all right with this? I mean--"

"I don't know, OK?" Peter said. "It's ... it's big. But I want to be all right with it, so I'll get myself there."

"You'll 'get yourself there'?"

"Are we having a fight about this?" Peter said. "I don't want to have a fight about this, I just-- You were right, I still need a moment."

"How long is a moment?" Johnny asked.

"I'll tell you when I find out," Peter said. "Are you going to be all right if I ... I don't know, go out on patrol?"

"If that's what you need to do to clear your head," Johnny said.

"But I mean, you've just been throwing up ..."

"I'm pregnant, Peter, not an invalid. Go. Do what you need to do."

Out on patrol, he stopped four muggings in progress without even realising that they were happening, accidentally interrupted a bank heist in progress, and returned one lost dog to its owner simply because it had decided to follow him. To say he was distracted would have been the understatement of the century.

When he got back to the apartment, Johnny was slouched on the couch eating popcorn in front of a film on Netflix.

"In every way that matters, it's _our_ baby," Peter said gravely.

"I'm watching my thing here," Johnny said. Peter looked at him. "OK, OK, I'll pause it."

"We're going to have a baby," Peter said. "And I'm thrilled."

"You mean that?"

"Yeah, little baby Storm-Parker. I can't wait."

"Parker-Storm," Johnny said instantly.

"If we really must," Peter said.

"So gracious in defeat," Johnny said. "I don't know what I see in you."

"Lucky for me then that you're pretty much stuck with me, biologically speaking."

"I think technically I more imprinted on Spider-Man," Johnny said. "Peter Parker's just some dude who happens to smell a bit like him."

"We can't call the baby Spider-Storm," Peter said.

"We could if it becomes a superhero though," Johnny said. "That would be a pretty cool superhero name."

"Oh no no no, we are not letting her or him join the family business," Peter said. "Way too dangerous."

"And how old, exactly, were you when you first started fighting crime?"

"I already have a brand new appreciation for what I put Aunt May through, believe me," Peter said.

"What about if we went for Storm-Spider, though?" Johnny said. "Would that convince you? I would have to admit that it's a better superhero name, _and_ it would satisfy your weird macho thing about surname order."

"It's not a macho thing," Peter said. "It's just--"

"Traditional?" Johnny said. "You're not much of a one for tradition."

"No, I guess I'm not," Peter said.

"OK, good. Can I watch my film now?"

* * *

The months passed. Just before Hallowe'en, Johnny felt the baby kick for the first time. His belly got progressively bigger as Thanksgiving and Christmas came and went. The doctors said that the baby was developing perfectly normally.

It was early spring, and Johnny was in his third trimester, before he finally relented to Peter's concern about what might happen if he went out on patrol, but if anything he became even more insufferable as "HQ guy", as he insisted on styling himself. With a tap into the Stark Industries CCTV network, which was more extensive than the municipal one, he was able to direct Peter to where there was trouble more accurately than the spider-sense ever had. The fact that the communications rig allowed him to subject Peter to a non-stop series of terrible jokes all night every night was just a bonus from Johnny's point of view.

Peter spent as much of his time as he could with Johnny, the only major time apart coming when he had to spend a long weekend away with Doctor Strange on an extra-dimensional quest. The Sorcerer Supreme had tracked him down and insisted on his attendance -- apparently, Kingpin's necklace had been supplied by some demon lord or other who there was every chance was going to continue to try to meddle with the mortal plane, if allowed, and as the one who had broken the necklace Peter was inextricably linked to the whole affair. Peter liked to think he was pretty seasoned at the weirder end of superheroing by now, but had been freaked out by the whole thing, and frankly let down by the whole thing finishing with Doc Strange and the demon lord apparently having a staring contest.

Johnny had gone back to the Baxter Building for the duration, to be fussed over and ribbed in equal measure. Peter had been slightly surprised to hear that it was the Thing who had been the most solicitous of Johnny's welfare, while Reed had delighted in telling him horror stories of what it had been like when he'd been pregnant with Valeria and Franklin.

The due date came and went. Peter was determined not to worry; only a small fraction of babies actually arrived on their exact due date, after all. A week later, though, and he was starting to get worried. They'd tried everything to get things started: spicy food, sex -- Peter realised with a slight start of guilt that he was going to miss fucking pregnant Johnny, and idly started to wonder about when they might try for another -- and even a variety of herbal teas that Johnny was very dubious about, but still nothing happened.

Eventually, the doctors decided that Johnny should be induced. Peter stayed with him throughout the labour, listening to his increasingly colourful swearing, and allowing his hand to be squeezed as much as necessary. He was pretty sure that if anyone else had been Johnny's birth partner, they'd have had broken metacarpals.

"Your anus is nicely dilated now," the obstetrician said at the start of hour twenty-nine. "We just need to be patient."

"I'm really not sure you realise quite how patient I'm already being," Johnny said to her. "I'm not really good at slow. Isn't there anything you can do?"

"We've done everything we can," she said. "We just have to let nature take its course."

"Sure," Johnny said. "Good idea. Let's do that!"

"I'm sorry," Peter said, "he's--"

"It's OK, this isn't uncommon," the obstetrician said. "We see this sort of thing all the time."

"I think maybe you should warn people about it more!" Johnny said, as the next contraction swept over him. He screamed out and squeezed Peter's hand harder than ever.

"Oh," he said, when it had finished. "I think-- I think something happened."

"Do you mind ..." the obstetrician said; at Johnny's nod, she checked once more. "Yes, that's it, the head's engaged. You just need to keep pushing now."

Peter clasped Johnny's hand that was squeezed around him with his other hand. "OK, man, you can do this. It's nothing compared to taking on, I don't know, Annihilus."

Johnny yowled incoherently as the next contraction came.

"You're doing really well," Peter said.

"Shut up!" Johnny said, before screaming again.

"Here we go," the obstetrician said.

Johnny gave one more yell, and then suddenly there was an altogether different cry in the room -- sharper, higher pitched, and altogether more pleasant to Peter's ears. "You did it!" Johnny said to Peter.

"It's a girl," the obstetrician said.

"Did you hear that? We have a little baby girl."

"Do you want to cut the cord?" Peter found himself being asked. After that everything turned into a blur: they took the baby away for some checks, which were apparently all fine, and then Johnny was being handed a tiny bundle wrapped in a blue blanket.

Peter reached down and stroked the baby's forehead. "She's beautiful," he said. "Look what you did."

"Look what _we_ did," Johnny said.

"Right," Peter said. "Look what we did." He leaned down to kiss the baby, then turned to kiss Johnny. "Wow, look what we did."


End file.
